


ii. Perspective

by confettiinmyhair



Series: Lessons [2]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: (their version of it anyway), Anal Fingering, Established Relationship, Force Visions, Grand Marshal Hux, M/M, Mutual Pining, Rimming, Scheming, Supreme Leader Ren, Throne Sex, Under-negotiated Kink, some of this seems like dubcon but they're just suspicious of each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-10
Updated: 2018-01-10
Packaged: 2019-03-03 05:24:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13334379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/confettiinmyhair/pseuds/confettiinmyhair
Summary: How do games change when pawns take their rightful places?





	ii. Perspective

**Author's Note:**

> Another work that is both the fault of and a gift for [Exorin](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Exorin/pseuds/Exorin).
> 
> Also, before you cringe: there is more lube involved in the acts described in this fic than is initially obvious, and that is in fact addressed later in the fic.

For one singular, clean moment, Hux could pretend that this view was his and his alone as the echoing report of the final delegate’s footsteps faded down the gangway toward the turbolift.

The wide sweep of transparisteel behind Ren’s throne was the worst kind of decadence, impractical bordering on foolishly unsafe.

And yet it served as such a simple declaration, a subtlety he would never have imagined Ren capable of: a suggestion that perhaps the First Order’s goal was not simply a river of blood, but to grasp the whole of the galactic sprawl beyond that window for some greater purpose.

“You can breathe now, Grand Marshal.”

The flowing edge to Ren’s voice was the very least of the day’s surprises.

No, that honor rested squarely on the horrifying charm and calm with which Ren had carried himself through hours of formal introductions to governors and system lords.  
It was tedious, meaningless, absolutely necessary if he meant to keep a hold on this power he’d seized -

And it was never supposed to have gone this well.

(A thought that he would take to his grave: _In another life, Ren might have made the most extraordinary senator._ )

With a dismissive sniff, Hux squared his shoulders as he turned to face Ren in the quiet of the now-empty chamber.

“Can I?”

Ren made no motion to stand, posture straight-backed and perfect - no motion whatsoever but the trace of his fingertips along the arm of that throne, but the momentary trace of his gaze down Hux’s body.

What kind of trick was it, that someone so petulant and chaotic could slip so naturally into this kind of performance?

(The better question: how long until Ren simply became bored of it and Hux would be left scrambling to pick up the pieces? And wasn’t that what he wanted?)

“Perhaps you would indulge me,” Ren asked, the soft words cutting though the jumble of his thoughts.

 _When don’t I?_ died on his lips as Ren stood, rounding a wide gesture at the now-empty seat.

“Indulge me,” he repeated, not quite a warning.

Swallowing against his own hesitation, Hux crossed the distance - seven, eight, nine steps - and gave Ren a curt nod as he sat.

There was something too keen in Ren’s gaze, made all the more unbearable in the silence. And yet Hux was unwilling to be the one to break the spell.

No words came, nothing but Ren’s gloved fingers sliding against his jaw.

He did not sigh, did not flinch, did not lean into the touch - did not break eye contact until Ren leaned in to drag their lips together, something altogether too gentle to be trusted.

It felt almost like _before_ , felt like something that did not exist anymore.

“So what? This is better,” Ren finally mumbled.

“Stay out of my head.”

“Then stop shouting into mine,” Ren scolded, barely above a whisper, pressing in completely.

It was some kind of a game, some kind of test, and for just a moment, Hux let himself open to it.

The kiss was deep, lingering, the first quiet moment of peace that Hux had felt in weeks ( _months_ ), some kind of brilliant lie that the two of them were still just people.  
Still just fumbling humans who could grasp at each other’s clothes and hair, still just two men fitting themselves together in full view of the vastness of space.

“This would never be enough for you.”

So that was the catch, murmured against the shell of Hux’s ear like a charm.

He had to blink, had to shove himself back against that polished black obsidian, had to hold Ren at as much of an arm’s length as possible by the front of his overtunic, trying to process his meaning.

“What the _fuck_ do you know?”

Ren was staring at his mouth again, smirking now.

“A wandering flotilla isn't the end-game, and you know it. So, what does your army’s loyalty buy?”

He felt the ire spike through him at that, uncomfortably aware of how pinned he was like this.  
(But oh, wondering for the most fleeting instant at the thought of _Ren (chancellor - consul -_ emperor _) with bright jewels braided into his dark hair, Hux whispering to him calmly from the shadows..._ )

There was a kind of tense whisper at the base of Hux’s skull, a stomach-turning caress that came with no touch, and the answering image bloomed into his mind - _coronet of gilded leaves splattered with blood, shadows of a dais in a warm summer breeze, dark-haired man at his feet with a sharp grin and a hand on an energy dagger, whisper of a_ please _, that this is how to keep what was won -_

“What the fuck-?” Hux whispered, fingers bunching in the fabric almost tight enough to tear when his vision finally cleared.  


Could he turn this if he struggled? If he pushed just hard enough, if he did not look up and give himself away -  
As though he could fight his way out of this (as though he wanted to) - as though Ren couldn't wipe the floor with him as easily as blinking.

(As though Ren hadn't been face down to the floor, ready to debase himself for the same damned thing not a week earlier.)

It was a thought that must have projected, for the nasty little twist to Ren’s lips.  
It brought Hux to a dead stillness, a kind of clarity washing over him.

Wary in his own mind, he calmed his breathing, set his jaw, and let go of Ren’s shirt, turning against the cold stone, pushing himself up to kneeling.

Putting his back to this man was some kind of a mistake - would be a mistake for anyone else, in any other circumstance.

“Earn it,” he whispered. If he was wrong about this, there would be enough time to panic for his own life after the fact.

“Care to specify?”

The sudden nervous tension in Ren’s body was palpable, but there was no defensive sting in his voice.

Hux glared over his shoulder as he shifted to take down the zip of his trousers.  
“I buy you a few years’ legitimacy and you give me half an empire, for... what? Having a place in it all after the dust settles? Fine. Earn it.”

He had expected the phantom pressure that corded itself around his throat, but not the immediate and tangible caress that followed, Ren’s still-gloved hands wrapping over his pulse points for just a moment - enough of a moment that Hux was pressing back against Ren’s body, thankful now for that solid tension keeping them both in place.

But it was only a tease (a warning) - Ren pulled away, pulled back, gave Hux a heartbeat or three to catch his breath.  
There was a rustle of fabric, the quiet echo of the scuff of a shoe on the floor, and those hands were back - just those hands, pulling Hux’s trousers down (and down and down), tugging his hips back, spreading his knees all the way to the armrests.

And those hands - still just those hands, still in those fine, thin gloves that matched his new clothes - were pawing at him gracelessly, spreading him wide, holding him in place for - 

Nothing, not what he thought, just the sudden sting of Ren’s teeth on the back of his thigh while he was exposed like this -

“Is that really all?” he breathed - another bite, harsher, to his inner thigh, though still not enough to bruise -

( _And he wanted that, maybe, something to press his own thumb into in the shower the next morning, grimacing with it as he stroked himself off to the memory-_ ) 

Another little shift of Ren’s fingers, spreading him that little bit further, and that first wet, heavy drag of Ren’s tongue just behind his balls wiped everything else from his mind, had Hux groaning into his own forearm.

It was - not just obscene, but common. Base.  
Did it matter that he was functionally pinned between all of the hands on his body - the real ones and the ghostly ones alike - when he was panting and gasping against his own skin, arching into every slow, lengthening lick?  
Did it matter that he would not beg aloud when his body was already doing it for him?

But he would not demand, would not cajole - not yet. Not when the man who was so enthusiastically taking him to pieces could simply pick his wants from the surface of his mind.

“Do it anyway,” Ren said, pulling back just for a moment.

“Earn it,” Hux answered again, voice rough in his throat now. _Earn my trust, earn your place, earn whatever this is_ \- 

He reached back for a handful of Ren’s hair when the man’s tongue finally pushed in right where he wanted it, finally let a wavering little _kriff_ echo its way up to the cavernously high ceiling.

The noise Ren made against him - something deep and eager - was almost enough to undo him, to make him forget himself and beg for something more than this.

Instead, he relaxed into it, into the relentlessly filthy little crests and ebbs of not-quite-enough, kept his knees spread wide, and enjoyed every slick little noise of being worked open this way, of his nerves lighting up with the sensation.

It was over too suddenly, Ren drawing away - Hux let him, let go of his hair, clamped his jaw shut as he tried to calm his breathing.

But only a moment, only until Ren was leaning back into him, fingers of one hand slipping around Hux’s jaw again, thumb testing the pulse at the side of his throat, and the hand-

Hux gasped, body twitching in confusion at the feeling - the fingers sliding against his spit-slicked hole, pressing inside far too easily - Ren still had not removed his gloves.  
He didn’t care, did not say ( _ruin them, ruin them in me, ruin me_ ) any of the hundred crass things that kept occurring to him, did nothing but move to take them deeper, deeper -

“Not half an empire.”

Ren’s words were little more than a warm breath on the back of his neck.

“Not - what?” he asked, stilling, breath harsh in his own ears.

“You put the crown in my hands,” Ren answered, fingers twisting as he spoke, thrusting in knuckle-deep, finally dragging a near-silent, shameful _please_ from Hux’s lips, “and I will set it on your head myself.”

The word planted itself in his mind, stark and clear as that earlier vision -

_Emperor._

It was too delicious, sent the heat arcing up his spine, body bowing tight with it, moaning to the emptiness around them as he fucked himself on those silk-smoothed fingers, spilling over the shining black stone beneath him.

He grimaced at the withdrawal of those fingers, bit his lip at the shudder it sent through his body - shuddered again at Ren's teeth sinking into his shoulder, at the sudden damp warmth as Ren came across his thighs.

Keeping himself propped up against the back of the throne with his forearms, he collected himself - barely registered the feeling of Ren wiping the worst of the mess from his skin.

When he glanced back Ren was standing, adjusting his clothes with his gaze fixed on the view beyond the window, something easier to the set of his shoulders than Hux had seen in weeks.

But the gloves were off, resting neatly on top of each other on the arm of the throne - neatly as they could be when they were absolutely sodden with spit and come and what had to have been lubricant of some kind.  
Hux wondered at that for a moment, decided to let it go - after all, he still wasn't entirely sure where Ren was hiding his saber among that lovely new cape, so there was no accounting for any number of other secret pockets ( _a problem for another day_.)

Shifting around awkwardly, Hux pulled his trousers up from where they had bunched down at his ankles, ignoring the too-obvious creasing in the typically immaculate fabric...  
And before he could stop himself, before he could try to rationalize, slipped the gloves into the pocket of his greatcoat.

“If that was all, Supreme Leader?” he asked, standing, a few final little adjustments to try and put himself to rights.

There was no retreat but formality, even after... that.  
(If ever.)

Ren nodded slowly, gaze slipping back to the present. Hux felt the last lingering strain of the Force grip slither off of his skin, some kind of an afterthought.

“Take your leave for the day, Grand Marshal.”

There was an airy-something under those words, something that breezed against the part of his mind that interpreted Ren’s magic, something he could understand the shape of, if not the words themselves - _it's ours, just ours, if we want it_ , something like that. Something like Hux's fingers tracing a dark braid, something new-old, some kind of unfulfilled future ache...

Hux tried to focus on that part of his mind, clinging to that sensation, tried carefully to push a response back - _keep your word and I’ll keep mine, keep your word and I’ll keep mine…_

He did not miss the part of Ren’s lips, the delighted confusion dancing over his expression -  
Hux turned on his heel, taking himself in a perfect stride to the turbolift.

The thought occurred as he crossed the threshold, as the door swiffed shut behind him:  
What was this but the old game made new again - perhaps still against each other (and perhaps it always would be), but now, quite simply, the two of them against all else?  
Well, if that wasn't the most sickening thrill.

**Author's Note:**

> As always, your feedback is appreciated - but as always, absolutely no pressure!


End file.
